


Where Do We Go From Here?

by Mysti_Fogg



Series: Madelaine Shepard [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, From Sex to Love, Interspecies Romance, Mass Effect 2: Arrival, Paragon Shepard (Mass Effect), Post-Mass Effect 2, Spacer (Mass Effect), Vanguard (Mass Effect), War Hero (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysti_Fogg/pseuds/Mysti_Fogg
Summary: The suicide mission was completed without losing a single squadmate. Ties with Cerberus were cut, and Shepard is left with a ship, a crew, and a lot of time on her hands that could be spent with Garrus.





	1. I Want You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape from the Collectors.

Shepard is running pell-mell for the Normandy, Collectors swarming after her. Her breathing is becoming ragged. The hexagonal floor is collapsing. She isn't going to make it. Garrus grasps the doorframe of the Normandy, reaching out a hand as far as he can stretch. She leaps.

Time seems to stand still as she hangs suspended in space between death and safety. Her biotics spark, giving her the extra lift to reach the ship. Garrus's hand closes around her black and red armored forearm. The universe resumes its course.

Joker barely waits for the door to close before taking the Normandy out of there. Behind them, the Collector base explodes. He dodges debris and races sand particles trying to penetrate the shields.

And then they're gone.

Shepard leans against the tall turian as she centers herself. Her breathing slows and her legs feel less wobbly. She realizes he's still gently holding her and looks up at him. His ice blue eyes have a peculiar expression. She wants to stroke his mandible and help him focus on whatever it is that he's thinking. She wants to feel the odd hardness of his plates contrasting with the softness of the skin between. Maybe it's just the thrill of battle and victory and being alive, but she wants him again. 

That wasn't their agreement. But given that he's still holding her what seems like a thousand years later, it seems he might still want her, too.

However, there are other considerations, also known as the rest of the shell-shocked, adrenaline-addled crew. 

She should take care of them. 

She should. 

Because it's the right thing to do.

Yes.

She wonders if she can get him to make that possessive growling noise again.

And there's that full body vibration as he hits his climax...

No.

Focus on the crew.

Shepard steps away from Garrus before she does something unbecoming a commander, such as posing for too long like a love-struck teenager. 

She turns to find Miranda. "Lawson. Good. Everyone made it?"

"Yes, commander. All crew are reporting in," the dark-haired XO replies.

"Objective achieved?" Shepard pulls off her helmet and stores it with the rest of the EVA equipment in the shuttle bay.

"The base is destroyed."

"Alright. I say we party! Have the crew checked over by Dr. Chakwas and Kelly, and then put all nonessential personnel to work setting up decorations in this area. I want everything ready to go 36 hours from now, after everyone has had a good nap."

"Yes, commander," says Lawson with a smile. 

It's good to be able to delegate.

Shepard looks back to Garrus. The turian is looking at the door, head tucked down in his cowl, fingers of his right hand sliding against themselves where he caught her, where he might have missed catching her. "Vakarian." His head lifts. "We should discuss those weapon calibrations you were talking about earlier." She begins walking to the elevator and he falls in step beside her.

"Shepard? I don't remember any calibrations."

She spins on her heel, and smirks at him as she continues walking backward for the door. "That would be a first." She works on unclasping her gloves and sliding them off.

"I'm certain I got everything properly aligned before the mission," he says so seriously that she can't help but laugh. Yes. Everything was definitely properly aligned ...

"You do excellent work..." When the eternity of waiting for the elevator ends, she steps inside, hits the button for her quarters as the door slides shut. "You told me how turian crews prepare for battle. What about afterward? Do you celebrate being alive?" She runs a bare finger over his mandible; her heart races. 

Garrus's hand lifts to her shoulder, running down to grip her armored arm. "Ye-es," he responds cautiously. He seems to be standing especially still.

She slides her hand down to the vulnerable skin of his neck to feel his pulse quickening, too. Voice slightly breathy, she says, "I want you. Right now." It's frightening to be so blunt, to admit that she might want anything for herself. His eyes are intense now, boring down into her, and she steps backward to exit the elevator, away from him, but he won't let go. 

Instead, he half lifts her, half shoves her against the wall next to the door to her cabin, pinning her on her tiptoes. "That's good because so do I. And if you keep backing and taunting, I'll go crazy." He leans his head down to press their brows together.

She drops her gloves on the floor of the landing and reaches for the latches of his blue and silver armor. "Can't stand me being out of your reach?" 

"You nearly were," he growls.

She tugs, and the chest and back plates of his armor fall to the floor. "You scared me, dangling off that platform."

"That's one of the many things talons are good for." He's been busy: Her greaves hit the floor, and his fingers run down her thighs. She places her hand on the lock to her door and it slides open as he lifts her up to balance on his hips. He strips off his gloves, curved claws wrapping around her, and carries her into the cabin.

"Three fingers are faster than I thought." She scrambles to keep up, figuring out where the buckles for his groin plate are. When she kisses him, he stops, thrown off his game. "Having second thoughts?" She tries to keep her voice steady, even though she's nothing of the kind and all she can focus on is the feeling of him against her.

"I forgot who I was with for a moment," Garrus says.

"Oh." The word comes out more hollow than she expected. Why shouldn't he think of someone else? Someone he finds more attractive. They're just friends with some interesting new benefits. It's just a bit of dented pride to wish he'd find her desirable as she is. "Then let me remind you."

Shepard runs her hands up her sides from her hips to her breasts, and then farther up as she arches back to touch the ground. She can feel his plates shifting beneath his undersuit and can't help the satisfied smile stealing across her face. 

"I didn't know you could do that ..." His talons run over her waist and back in wonder.

"Vanguard, remember? I've trained to have complete control over every muscle of my body at 150 mph. I hope you can keep up." She wraps arms around his neck, and catches his mouth with a kiss again.

More metal hits the floor, and he begins scraping his mouthplates along her clavicle. "I intend to take my time lining up my shots."

Memories of last night (was it only last night?) play through her mind. How he took his time exploring her body and every sound he could draw out of her. How uncertainty played behind his eyes, slowly replaced by the oh so cocky confidence she'd grown to expect from him. 

"That's what you say, but I think your body has other ideas." She smirks and wiggles against him, slipping off the top of her suit and feeling his plates expanding between her thighs.

"Do you know me that well?" A talon traces the trail left by his mouth as he looks consideringly into her eyes.

"Maybe." She works at slipping his suit off of his shoulders. "It couldn't hurt to know you better, could it?"

His rough, warm hands trail along her back, removing the last of the fabric between them. His cobalt cock is slick with self-lubricant as he rubs it teasingly along her slit, making her groan. He turns and presses her against the glass wall of the empty fish tank, so that the world is cast in blue. "I don't know. What if you don't like what you find?"

"Do you get darker and angrier than Archangel putting killers to death?"

"No."

"Then you have nothing to fear." She gasps as he presses into her hard and fast. Her back arches and he pins her hands above her and as she begins to ride.

#

The first time they'd made love, it had been fumbling and slow and testing. They understood the basic concept, but not all the sticky little details.

The second time they'd made love, it was full of the desperation and anger of two people who had died. They didn't care if it hurt because they wanted it to hurt. Blood and pain were the ways to be certain everything was real.

The third time they'd made love, it was with clarity. They knew who they were and what they wanted even if they couldn't put it into words. It was forgiveness. It was freedom before submitting again to virtues of sacrifice.

The fourth time? The fourth time was an unmoored beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm busy writing "There's No Shepard Without Vakarian," I keep coming back to the problem that to do a good job, I should probably understand how the shift from sex to love happened. And the only way I can do that is to sit around and write some scenes. And if I'm going to have to write scenes down anyway, I may as well post them. 
> 
> So enjoy this sex-filled side fic that I didn't intend on writing. You can blame it all on Garrus.


	2. Insubordinate Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus investigates

Garrus wakes with a crick in his neck and a sea of stars passing overhead. A salty, musky scent hangs in the air. He looks down at Shepard nestled against his chest, red hair mussed, and is both bemused and relieved that it isn't just a heat haze dream.

It's not often he gets a request for an encore. 

Sex is blowing off steam, easing tension, satisfying curiosity before moving on to the next job, the next case, the next day when reality sets in and there isn't much to talk about and they don't even like each other much. It's just convenient for a moment to not be alone in the bowels of a ship at war or the fast-paced world of the Citadel or the slums of Omega.

Shepard is different, though. He doesn't want to lose her.

He ... likes her. 

Adores her, really. 

He thought he was past wanting desperately to please her as the salty scent of her sweat wrapped around him in the Mako while she waited for him to finish repairs on their clunky tank. She was the mentor he'd needed. She'd set him free. How could he not feel immense gratitude to someone who helped him find his path?

She stirs against him, knee propped over his waist, pale fist gripping his cowl. He runs the tip of his talon along the curve of her spine. This ... is not gratitude. He stopped being grateful when she died.

Spirits know what it is, though. 

It's surreal, is what it is. Sometimes he forgets she's Commander Shepard and human and carrying the weight of the galaxy. Sometimes, she's just a person he wants to ... to ... be with.

It's not likely they'll have another night together. She's the captain and a spectre. Duty will call her away when morning comes, and this is all just ... just ... 

She shifts again and he enjoys the play of her skin across her shoulders, as if she's always wearing a bit of satin that slides tauntingly along her plates. He reaches over to a box of digestive tablets among the supplies still in the bedside drawers. His subvocals thrum the gentle inquiry for one last round of intimacy as he strokes her hair. Not that she can hear it. 

She wakes drowsily, and he feels the immediate magnetic pull of her. "What time is it?"

"I think you call it noon watch."

"Mmmm... I should get up soon." She stretches, showing her delicate wrists backed by powerful muscle. 

"I thought you'd say that." He rolls her onto her back, his arms on either side of her.

She makes a squeak of surprise and then laughs. "Plotting to keep me here?"

"I had some ideas in that direction. Unless you want to tell all your deep dark secrets to Kelly."

"Oh, God, no."

"And I don't think Cerberus needs to understand mine. We'd only be underfoot."

"You have some deep dark secrets you're keeping?"

"I'm having a number of insubordinate ideas about the chain of command."

She chuckles. He could listen to her rich, throaty voice for hours. "Are you now?"

"I might have to lead a mutiny." He cups her breast with one hand, an oddly squishy ball in his palm. His carefully blunted foretalon traces a spiral inward to the tip.

"Mmmmm..." Her shoulders dig into the bed as if trying to escape, but her smile seems pleased. "You think you could get the others to follow you?"

"If I had the right set of demands."

"And that would be...?" She slides her hand under his other one and laces their fingers together.

"That the captain is overworking herself and should take more time off."

"You think the criminals and mercenaries we've been working with have an ounce of altruism in their bodies?" Her eyebrow lifts skeptically.

"Yes." He begins licking her neck.

"Seriously? How do you figure that?"

"They've spent too much time around you. Your good intentions are infectious." His hand strokes down to her waist and the solidity of her hip. "They can be turned against you. All I would need to do is convince them it's all for your own well-being."

She sighs and trails fingers up his neck beneath his fringe. "You think you know what's good for me?" 

Too many fingers, playing much too quickly along hidden nerve endings beneath his crest in patterns that he's not used to. He groans and pushes her legs apart to kneel above her, pulling her hips roughly against his. He shakes her hand off, regaining some small bit of control. "I'd like to figure it out."

Eyes on fire, she wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls herself up to kiss him. He's slowly getting used to the oddity of it, the startling meat and mint taste of her in his mouth. The right response still eludes him. He settles for pulling her more tightly to him and letting her lead, offering occasional twitches of mouthplates that can't match the flexibility of skin. 

"I'm not sure I want to be figured out. A woman should have some mystery."

"Now I _have_ to investigate." He presses her back into the firm mattress and begins licking a trail down her chest.

She squirms as he studies the sensitivity of her nipples again. "Can't just let me have this one?"

"No."

"I guess feminine wiles can go on the list of things I'm not good at."

"What are those?"

"The part where I bat my eyes and men do what I want."

His pointed tongue circles around her bellybutton before he stops and looks up at her. " _Everyone_ does what you want."

" _You_ aren't."

"Too much exposure. I'm developing an immunity." He lets go of her hand, and pushes her legs up over his shoulders.

"I don't think that's how it-- Oh," she gasps as his tongue slips along her slit. Humans are so much easier than turians. He doesn't have to tease her plates apart. 

Her fingers dig into the sheets as his tongue pierces her. And yet, he seems to remember her being more slick when she was ready for him. This requires some careful study. Perhaps he's moving too fast. Experience says more work on the outer layers and then move in... Wasn't there something in the vids about the small bead to the front?

"I don't -- oh, God." 

Hmmm.... Slower or faster?

"Garrus, I -- oh, yes." 

The taste of her changes. That's more what he was looking for. His own plates begin to shift.

"Oh, please, yes." Her hand comes up behind his fringe again, pressing him deeper, short-circuiting his thoughts. She's an open, willing female. The cries she makes aren't a usual song, but her voice, oh, her voice... And her essence -- salty, musky, tangy -- is ... is ... is home.

He pulls himself up her body and drives deep into her warm, tight core.

"Garrus!" her song doesn't vibrate along him the way it should, and he jabs into her again, hard.

She gasps, and her inner walls grip him firmly and strangely flex to draw him deeper. She is like nothing else he's ever experienced. He starts to time his thrusts to the throbbing around him. His subvocals trill an embarrassing tune of desire for things he can't put to words.

When her grip turns into a fluttering caress, he curls an arm beneath her back to change the angle and speeds to his climax with his nose buried in her soft hair.

They lie in a sticky pile. When Shepard's breathing slows and her body temperature dips in sleep, Garrus disentangles himself. He gently wraps her in the coverlet and steals away to her private shower. It takes little of his time to tidy her armor while he reattaches his own.

He definitely needs to leave before armor isn't the only thing he's attached to.

It was ... a night to treasure. They've walked through hell. And now they have the rest of their lives ahead of them.

They both deserve something good in their futures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have my fingers crossed that other people think this turned out as well as I think it did.
> 
> And that it was worth my current thesaurus.com search history.


	3. The Perils of Wearing Skirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You Don't Own Me" sung by Lesley Gore, 1963.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JDUjeR01wnU

Some days you wake up with a turian next to you, and, apparently, other days you don't.

Shepard feels rather philosophical about her empty bed. A little disappointed because she enjoys Garrus's company, but at the same time relieved because she has her bubble of privacy and quiet before the party. Oddly, though, she didn't find his presence in her space disruptive. 

_It's probably the lack of demands,_ she thinks as she pulls out her little black dress. Josh needed her to admire him; Teri needed her to organize her life for her; Kaidan needed her to be the commander. Waking up with people could be exhausting. 

It was nice to wake up with laughter and teasing, all curled up and warm. Her eyes fall on her neatly stowed armor. She feels ... cared for. 

Of course she does. It's a fling. This is the easy stuff.

She straightens her triangular necklace, checks over her makeup, and heads for the party.

#

The gathering in the shuttle bay is more subdued than joyful when Shepard arrives. The faces of the crewmembers are full of uncertainty and tension at odds with the lightness in her heart.

Garrus is another exception to the pervasive sense of anxiety, casually holding up a wall in his garish blue and green civvies, seeming amused at the colored streamers draped over the industrial grey shuttles. There's something to how he stands ... the tilt of his chin, the angle of his hips... that calls to her. He's definitely not human, but this bit of body language is the same: relaxed, confident, powerful, male. Blowing off steam certainly works for her stress levels, but now she knows exactly what it feels like to be with him. If only every night could be like that.

He catches her watching him and nods to her. She smirks in response. It would be enjoyable to chat, but this party needs someone to breathe life into things, and since it's her ship, it's her job.

She strides across the floor to the sound system begins paging through the music selections looking for something ... defiant. Cerberus and the Alliance have both tried to drop her into a black hole of obscurity and uselessness. And they failed.

"Commander," says Miranda as her black catsuit fades out of the shadows. "What are you doing?"

"Finishing our revolt against the Illusive Man." She gives Miranda a half smile, adding, "And apparently taking you with me. Thank you."

"You were right all along: We're all replaceable to him. I thought he saw all that I could accomplish. Instead, I was just a means to gain personal power. I am through being used for other people's goals."

"I don't suppose you'd join me in a song, then?"

"A song?"

"It's to boost morale." Shepard's eyes sparkle. "But I think you'd like it." Her fingers run over the data chip of Lady Sweat's last works and land on a retro title. "And I think the crew could stand to see the Miranda I sometimes see when we talk. She's fun."

"Shepard... I don't know how to be like normal people."

"That's alright, we're not normal people. Please? It would be helpful." 

Miranda huffs in exasperation, though her lips twitch up in a smile. "Alright."

"Thank you!" Shepard hops on top of a shuttle. It's not quite dignified doing so in short skirts, but she's beyond caring about that. "EDI, give me the comms."

"Yes, Shepard."

She clears her throat. "Listen up everyone! I've gone over the reports for this mission, and each and every one of you should be proud. _We_ have accomplished every goal set for us."

The eyes of the whole crew are upon her, and with their support, she feels like Wonder Woman. She won't let them down.

" _We_ redesigned and reconfigured the most advanced ship the council has ever seen. _We_ overcame a weapon created to target and disable most of us. _We_ recruited a team of the most talented, most devoted, and most deadly fighters in the universe for a suicide mission. And _we_ all came back alive!"

The air is electrifying as the crowd cheers.

"And when our boss revealed that he was in it for power and wanted to exploit the bodies of our dead for his gain, to derive power from the misery of millions, at the potential price of further millions, _we_ left."

"Fuck, yeah!" yells Jack.

"Screw bloody backstabbing Cerberus!" Zaeed growls.

The crowd throws out a few more complaints of disgruntled employees who were put on a literal chopping block for the Illusive Man's enrichment.

Shepard raises her arms, gesturing for their attention again. "From here out, we'll carve a brighter future for ourselves, whether on this ship, or returning to the lives we left behind for the good of the galaxy. Whatever you choose, tonight we honor each other. None of this would have been possible without each and every one of you!"

Cheering and whistling erupts from the crowd, and Shepard smiles wider.

"And if the Illusive Man comes knocking at our door, I have a message for him, too." She taps play. "You don't own me, I'm not just one of your many toys." She reaches down for Miranda's hand and pulls her up onto the shuttle with one arm and dares her to continue. 

"You don't own me. Don't say I can't go with other boys." The Aussie-accented voice is as clear as expected, but what isn't expected is that Miranda rips the Cerberus logo from her uniform and grinds it under her heel. 

"And don't tell me what to do. Don't tell me what to say. And please, when I got out with you, don't put me on display..." the resonant duet fills the shuttle bay, ending in applause and whistles of approval. Shepard gives Miranda a hug at the end, before bracing for the taller woman to climb down. Of course, then she's confronted with the problem of her own descent. 

And then Garrus is there for her in his silly outfit, wrapping strong arms around her. She threads her own arms around his neck. "Hello." 

"Hi. Um. Kasumi thought you needed some help. I'm not sure why."

"It has to do with the perils of wearing skirts."

"If it's a problem, then why do it?" He picks her up and slowly sets her down again on the floor.

"It's the only non-uniform, non-Cerberus thing I own." She shakes her head ruefully. "Though I suppose I could have done what Miranda did and ripped the patch off. Too late now. Besides, it's better coming from her, the crew needs to know she means it."

"It is ... erm ... an interesting dress." His eyes rest on hers.

"Interesting?"

"It's ... umm ... very short."

"You have a problem with my dress?"

"No! It's ... unusual. It shows off your legs... It's not trendy." His arms still encircle her.

She giggles. "You are awful at this, aren't you?"

"This?"

"Talking to women. Or is it just me?"

"Shepard, you're the easiest person to talk to in my life."

"I'd hate to see the hardest." Shepard realizes she's still holding onto him, and, feeling self-conscious, begins straightening the stiff fabric of his coat. 

"I've been avoiding him for most of six years. I ... now that everything is done, I should go to Palaven for a few months."

"Oh." It's good that he'll go home. She expects a lot of people will. "I don't know what I would have done without you." It's the truth that she wouldn't have made it this far without someone she could trust completely to help keep her sane and focused. The ship will feel wrong without him. But ... but people move on.

"It won't be long." He lifts a gloved hand to her bare shoulder. "Then I can return to looking after the Thanix cannon, if you'll have me."

"You want to come back?" Her heart jumps into high speed. 

"There's no better job than working for a spectre like you who gives me the freedom and equipment I need to get my work done." He looks down and says more quietly, "And the Normandy is the only real home I have."

Shepard curls her fingers into his turtleneck to pull him closer. _He likes my ship!_ There is nothing more flattering he could say. She wills her impulses into check. He wants to stay. He didn't say he wanted her. "Yes, Garrus. Of course you can stay. Can you come to the comm room after the party? We'll talk about the details."


	4. The Strategic Value of Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the party.

There are so many people to say goodbye to: Thane will be off to the Citadel to spend what's left of his time with his son; Zaeed will be looking for clues to the current whereabouts of Vido Santiago, Samara will go back to asari space to find new criminals to hunt...

"I wonder how Shepard will manage when we're all gone," says Tali.

"She won't be alone. Miranda and Jacob are staying," replies Garrus. "And I'll be back soon. I'm more surprised you're leaving. The Normandy never sounds right without you watching over the engines."

"Garrus! You say the sweetest things sometimes."

"Now if you could only get your drones to stop whining."

"And then sometimes ... Shotgun. I'll miss you, too, you big _bosh'tet_." Tali sips at her virgin drink. "I _need_ to go home to fix everything my father nearly destroyed. It's the only way I'll feel right about us hiding the evidence."

"I wish you had let it all come out. He doesn't deserve your protection."

"He's still family. I would think a turian would understand."

"I understand," Garrus grumbles reluctantly. "I just don't like it. You nearly lost everything because of him. Family duty is a two-way street."

"That's a luxury I don't have any more, Garrus." She tips a small amount of his brandy into her glass. He pretends not to notice. 

"You have us. Here."

"I still have a duty to spread the truth about the geth to my people. We might be able to end our exile. Legion and I, we could change _everything _. To do that, I need to be with the flotilla. Don't worry. I'll come back to shoot husks for you if you need the protection."__

____

____

"I do fine on my own." 

"Your girlfriend might disagree," Tali says knowingly. 

"What? I'm not dating anyone." 

"We all saw you leave with the commander yesterday. I went looking for you later and you still weren't back. What were you doing, playing First Contact War all night?" 

"We entertained each other," he confirms casually. There's nothing wrong in sleeping together, but it's rude to give out personal details. 

"You put your hands on her waist earlier." 

"We are close friends. It was the easiest way to pick her up." No need to think about how neatly Shepard's legs could wrap around his own waist as he carried her off to bed. No need to think of it, but now he is. 

" _Bosh'tet_. I hope you've told her that. The way she was looking at you was more than friends." 

"She knows," Garrus keeps his voice even. According to his visor, Shepard's heart rate had gone up when they were talking. But she'd also been rallying the crew. It was nothing, wasn't it? 

"Garrus!" Shepard calls out. Her eyes are tired, but she still projects boundless energy. "If you're sober enough, we could get the details of your re-up ironed out." 

"Whatever you need, Shepard." 

"'Whatever you need?'" Tali warbles in her suit behind him. 

"We have more things to discuss." 

"I still want to heat up popkernals and watch. It's like my own private showing of _Fleet and Flotilla_." 

Kasumi fizzles in and hands her a bowl of quarian nuts. "Me, too, but this is the best I can do." The thief produces her own bowl of pretzels. 

Garrus shoots them both a look of betrayal. 

Tali tilts her chin up, pointing to Shepard. "Don't keep her waiting." 

# 

A wooden table dominates the comm room. It used to be a high-tech communication device, but it's useless now: The only place the QEC can call is the Illusive Man's private office. Shepard sits atop it, shoes discarded haphazardly, bared feet dangling. "Have a minute?" 

"I think I have several. What did you need to discuss?" 

Shepard studies the wall of the conference room for a moment. "I'm glad you want to stay. It means a lot to me." 

He narrows his eyes at her. "I sense a 'but.'" 

"No!" She looks up at him. "Not at all." She licks her lips. "I need to know what you want." 

"I thought I was clear. I need room for me and my weapons. What I have down in the gunnery now works fine." 

"I see. And you want an indefinite contract?" 

"Yes. So far as you've made me aware, the Reapers are still lurking and even if we never see them again, you could use a good sniper to watch your six." He runs a talon over the hardwood surface near her hand. "I got the impression you thought we made a good team." 

"I do. I needed to know you thought the same." She laughs a little nervously. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to ... spend more time together. Up in my cabin. It's fine that it's not in your plans. I wanted to get past the interspecies awkward-" 

"Wait!" He covers her hand with his when she moves to get up. "I ... didn't know that was an option." She wanted to ... what? Invite him back to her bed again? Regularly? 

"It is if you want it to be," she says evenly. 

He can see the spike in her biorhythms through his visor, not that he would have doubted her sincerity in the first place. "Why? You have an entire universe of possibilities." 

"I'd still rather be with someone I trust." She drops her gaze, lost in some internal landscape. "Someone who accepts me. I ... don't even know what I am any more, if I'm an AI or a clone or what." 

"You're Shepard." He knows her. No one could fake all of the little things: the grimace when she's taken too much fire from running out ahead, the sparkle in her eye when she rakes in a pot, the way she attentively listens to everything in a way that makes the speaker feel like the most important person in the world. 

"Then why don't I remember?" Her voice is lost. 

He leans down, wrapping an arm around her for support and pressing his forehead to hers. His subvocals instinctively hum a soothing tune she won't hear. "Remember what?" 

"Being dead. I should remember something, shouldn't I? Heaven or hell or ... something." 

"Shepard, you have the Beacon, the Cipher, and who knows what else taking up space in your brain. You really think you have the room in there for firsthand knowledge of the afterlife, too?" 

"If I was there ..." 

"Perhaps that's not the way it works." He's out of his depth, trying to find a way to reassure her. 

"I don't know." She gives his hand a squeeze. "The point is, being with you made me feel alive again, and I hoped it was mutually beneficial." 

Garrus doesn't want to talk about Omega. It seems out of place now that the shadow of Sidonis is lifted. He can suddenly see the strategic value of kissing: The talking will stop and he won't have to explain. So he leans down to press their mouths together. 

Shepard responds slowly. This time he can detect a pattern of movement to replicate as her breathing grows faster until they have to stop. 

"Did I get that right?" he asks. 

"Depends on if you were trying to say 'yes.'" 

"Yes." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm largely a sucker for canon and all of its complications.
> 
> Canon on Shepard's death: There's a deleted Ashley romance scene from ME3 in which she asks Shepard about the afterlife and he tells her he remembers nothing. Pity it was deleted because it's the kind of thing that should have at least been mentioned.


	5. Say My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Garrus learns Shepard's name.

There are perks to not being slept on by a turian. Like breathing. Shepard tries to shift herself so that she's not taking as much of Garrus's weight, but without knocking his head off her chest. 

She's discovering that it's rare for her to wake first, and she intends to enjoy it, even if he is extremely hard to cuddle. There's no soft flesh to snuggle into, and whatever body heat he has tends to seep out of the plates and dissipate quickly. 

Shepard shifts her shoulder up and tries to run a hand along his arm, but the result is more being smushed into an awkward position and now she can't get her shoulder down.

What is she even doing?

Maybe Garrus was right. Maybe she should look closer to home. 

_Yes, because that worked so well with Kaidan._ How do you peel back all the layers of defenses to let someone inside you, and then find out he doesn't know you at all? It's hard enough going through life doubting her own skin without being stuck on a guy who doubts the person within.

She was stuck for a while, though. She'd remember his warm body next to hers and his firm butt. She'd remember the way the biotics crackled as their barriers threw sparks and they floated above the bed until all the energy melded together with them.

That was the key, though: It was just sex she was stuck on after their talk on Horizon.

She didn't need him. He wasn't who she'd thought he was.

But she was hungry for a physical connection after dying, for the least bit of affection to make the world outside her mind real.

There is nothing quite as real as a turian twitching in his sleep. Is there something she can to do to soothe him? She recalls something about humming and begins an abstract melody.

Why is she still here?

Being with Garrus is far harder than any other relationship she's been in. She has to learn how to touch him without getting her fingers pinched. She has to rely on technology to tell her what he's saying. She has to rely on medicine to be able to kiss him. She has to figure out what habits are turian culture and what habits are pure Garrus. 

His eye flicks open and her heart jumps. 

Ah, yes, and there's the primitive fight or flight instinct that occasionally hits and tells her that a velociraptor in her bed might be a bad long-term survival strategy.

Garrus gives her an inquisitive look and then kisses her. She traces the points of his plates with her tongue until he opens his mouth and their tongues begin to tangle together. His is drier and warmer, more like a soft piece of leather.

She's breathless as he draws away. "Mmmmmm...."

"Good morning, Shepard."

"Good morning, Vakarian."

"It's Vakarian after that kiss? I must not have gotten it right..." he leans in again, pressing her against the mattress while a hand shifts under her, stroking down to the small of her back as she arches against him. Her leg hooks around his. "Better?"

"There was nothing wrong with the first one." She stretches and nips at his neck, craftily arranging some pillows with her biotics before flipping them over so that he's sitting upright and she's crouched between his legs. "But you could call me by my first name."

His mandibles flutter in surprise or arousal. She isn't certain how to distinguish the two yet. "What is your name, Shepard?"

She laughs. "You've served with me for nearly three years and you don't know?"

"You never use it when you introduce yourself unless it's actually 'Commander.'"

"Only to my crew."

"I'm not part of the crew?"

"You're..." _My lover?_ "the man I spend my life with. You might as well know my name." The man who always chose to fight at her side. Why stay? Why would she ever leave? The desire for him floods her senses. His eyes don't leave her as she reaches across the nightstand for the box of digestives. "It's Madeleine."

"Mad-el-en," he says slowly.

"Madeleine. It means 'the woman in the high tower.'" She bites into a tablet and shakes out one from the other side for him. 

"Madeleine," he repeats and strokes a hand along her shoulder. "If you're in a high tower, you should have been a sniper."

"Perhaps that's why I need the best sniper in the galaxy." She takes the tablet between her teeth and crawls up to kiss him again, slipping it past his mouthplates. "And now you know something few people do. Use it well."

His warm, pebbled hands unerringly find the sore spots along her spine and apply the right pressure to begin massaging them out. "What would you recommend?"

"Say my name, Garrus." She rolls the 'r' and elongates the 's' with a flourish. She lowers her head slowly over his pelvic plates, listening to his breathing speed up in anticipation before she licks along the crack between them. "Remember me."

His hisses and his talons dig into her as his plates begin to shift. "Shepard, No one could forget you."

She looks up at him without moving from her current position. "No. Don't remember Shepard. Everyone remembers Shepard, Savior of the Citadel." She licks along the widening joining. "Remember the woman, not the legend. Remember a woman who gave herself to you."

His plates slide open faster than the previous times and he rolls his hips at the sudden freedom.

"Seems I said something right." Her eyes have a playful gleam.

He chuckles and tries to regain his composure despite the hint of blue rising along his throat. "You ummm.. you ummm..."

"I...?" She tries to read him and fails. He's not usually this easy in bed. Trying to get turian plates to agree with turian minds that sex is a good idea seems to be the focus of foreplay.

"You, uh, have a lovely voice, Shepard, and I ..."

She narrows her eyes. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that for once."

"It's a habit and it suits you and ... "

She lowers her head to take him into her mouth and still his rambling. The thick natural lubricant slides over her tongue like cinnamon and chai.

"Oh, Spirits!"He tangles a hand in her hair, fingers moving along the base of her skull and she closes her eyes and slows her rhythm. "Oh. That's not quite right." His hand stills.

"Hmmmmmm.....?"

"Oh, yes. I didn't think about you ..."

"Hmmm?"

"YES."

She hums along his length from thick base to tapered tip while he gasps for breath and then lifts her head with a smirk. "I am the queen of your high tower. Say my name."

"Madeleine," he gasps.

"Remember _me_." She leans down to finish what she started.

"I will always remember you, Madeleine."

#

Later, after Garrus has gone back to his calibrations, Shepard goes over the accounting with Miranda in her office.

"We can't continue like this, Shepard. The money has to come from somewhere!" her XO insists.

"A mission will come. Until then, we patrol for pirates." There aren't many options now that Cerberus and the Alliance aren't employing them.

"Shepard ..."

"And I'll do more scanning for anomalies. We've gotten this far, Miranda. We'll manage. We can sell off some of the scavenged gear and Cerberus intel..."

"Cerberus was a black ops branch of the Alliance once! If you sell them what we have, you'll encourage another Cerberus."

"Fine. I'll find something for us if I have to form us into a new band of mercenaries. We have the ship, the training, the gear..." It's the only realistic option. With spectre backing and the mercs on Omega reeling from tangling with Archangel, they should be able to get some contracts.

"What we need is a job."

"We'll find one. Have a little faith, Miranda."

"Faith in what? The Alliance?" 

Clearly her second in command thinks she's waiting around for the government to call her back. That would make life much easier, but Shepard's not holding her breath."Faith in yourself, XO. We can do this." It's funny to see Miranda trying to carry on with her life after accepting that she isn't perfect. She searches so desperately for something other than herself to believe in.

"You're right. You're right. We can do this."

"With a little bit of luck."

"Shepard ...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally try to use Madeleine's name as little as possible not because I want her to be generic, but because I know I can find it jarring when reading other fics if Shepard is called by a first name a lot. 
> 
> However, her name should also come up at some point and I try to pick my moments.
> 
> So my apologies if I broke anyone's suspension of disbelief.


	6. How Do I Get You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Alliance comes calling.

"What do you want, Madeleine?" Garrus props his head up on a hand while he runs the other down the arm of his companion. The problem of what _he_ wants has been bothering him. 

"What do you mean?" Shepard rolls over on the bed to look at him, the sheets cocooning around her. 

"Clearly you want all of the covers," he says with an exasperated huff as he tugs at them.

"I turned the thermostat up to 30 degrees C. How can you still be cold?" she asks as she unwinds some of the sheets. "I'm beginning to believe the first turian invention was a robe."

"Actually, we didn't invent clothes until we started our space program," Garrus says off-handedly.

"Wait. Seriously?" Shepard's eyes widen in surprise.

Damn. Now she's distracted with one of those things that gets the other council species to turn their noses up at turians as being barely above barbarians. "Yes. It's hot on Palaven and our plates are designed to protect us from the sun. There wasn't much of a point to clothes until we got into space where everyone else keeps the temperature set to the dead of winter minus 10 degrees."

"I wonder if that's why the colors are so odd..." Shepard mumbles.

"What's wrong with the colors?" Garrus demands.

"Nothing," she says innocently.

"That was something," he insists.

"It's just... turian clothes are really .... bright."

"As compared to the shades of brown and dark greys and blues humans wear?"

"I suppose those are the popular colors at the moment..." she says carefully. "It's ... well, I've been trying to figure out turian fashion. It's one of my favorite games to play while I'm waiting around the Citadel for the council to agree to see me. To me, it's a bit ... much."

"Much?"

"You look like you bought the most vivid clothes you could find, tossed them in your closet, and then got dressed in the dark." The words come out in a rush. "Except the patterns match, so that's not the excuse."

" _You_ think _I_ have bad taste?" he says, mildly offended. The one outfit she owns that isn't a uniform is something Kasumi bought for her. Does she have any sense of personal style?

"Ummmm... sort of. I do like your armor," she says earnestly. "The blue and silver is attractive. The civvies are just ... umm... just ... ummm... I prefer you out of them."

He _could_ be angry at her insulting what was the latest fashion for the turian about the Citadel three years ago, using newly created dyes from one of the latest colonies. He might have been, a while back, when he was young and trendy and trying to catch a woman's eye. But that was someone else's life. 

Instead, he runs a finger along his mandible as he looks down at her. "You prefer silver and blue, huh?"

"Absolutely."

"What else do you prefer?" he purrs in hopes of an answer to his original question. 

"You." She draws him down for a kiss.

It's bittersweet to feel the touch of her lips. He can tell she's merely being playful.

He'd thought he was fine with playing until yesterday when she'd said she'd give herself to him and sent his mind in an entirely new direction. What would it be like to be bonded with Shepard? To see her eyes filled with lust and laughter and ... love ... for the rest of his life? The thought had made his plates ache and shift faster than he'd known was possible. 

The traitorous coverings cease resettling and begin to pull back again despite the fact he's feeling a little tired. 

She chuckles and rubs up against him. "I see you're in agreement."

"I have a lot of ... ummm... stamina." _I have a lot of issues if I'm reacting like this._

"I could do something about that ..."

"Nonono. That's not what I had in mind."

"What were you thinking about, then?" Her finger moves restlessly over his carapace.

"I..." _I may be falling in love with you._ "I was wondering what kind of things you looked for in a mate."

She raises an eyebrow.

"I'm your best friend. I thought I should know." It's the truth. He should know his chances of getting her attention.

"You're going to laugh."

"Entertain me."

"I want someone who can fix my omni-tool," she says flatly.

He waits a moment. "That's it?"

"That's important. My life is on my omni-tool. It would be good to have someone on hand who could fix the damn thing."

"That's all you're looking for?" 

"And likes my ship. It is very important that anyone I date likes my ship."

"So you want an engineer." Odd to think that Tali might be his main competition if she were into women.

"Possibly." She watches her finger trail along his arm. "Loyalty is also important. I would have to be able to trust my partner completely." She sighs. "Hell, Garrus, I don't know what I want. I've never felt an urge to settle down. What do you want?"

"I don't know." _I think I might want you._

"Hey, no stealing my answer."

"You have a short list of requirements."

"Alright, how do you not have any preferences? No waistline measurements or anything?"

"Fine, I want a woman who can hit a fly on the wall at 1000 meters, sings like a rock star, and gets my sense of humor." He cups her cheek. _Spirits, I do want you. How do I get you?_ "Loyalty and trust, of course, and the ability to hold her own with krogan."

"Maybe you'll find her when you go home." She pats his hand.

"I think--"

The comm beeps a warning and then Joker's voice comes over the speaker, "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything, commander. Incoming message from Admiral Hackett, Alliance HQ."

"Thanks, Joker. Give me a minute and then put him through."

"Roger."

Shepard jumps out of bed, pulls on her black and white dress coat, and brushes out her shoulder-length hair.

"Were you waiting for a call, Shepard?" Garrus asks.

"Hoping for a call. We need to build up a portfolio of completed assignments so that we continue to get work."

"I can go."

"No, stay. I'm not Alliance any more. I have no obligation to keep secrets from members of the crew that I trust. Besides, then we can look over plans together in the morning." Her white thighs flash under the hem of her coat as she jogs up the stairs to the view screen. She straightens her sleeves and then opens the comm link.

Garrus can see the backward image of the scarred face of an older man decked out in an admiral's uniform. "Commander. Thank you for your time. I'll keep this brief. We have a deep-cover operative out in batarian space. Name's Dr. Amanda Kenson. Dr. Kenson recently reported that she found evidence of an imminent Reaper invasion."

Shepard crosses her arms and widens her stance, not that the cameral will pick up on anything below her chest. "So why call me? I'm one person with one ship."

"Just this morning, I received word that the batarians arrested her. They're holding her in a secret prison outpost on terrorism charges. I need you to infiltrate the prison and get her out of there. As a favor to me, I'm asking that you go in alone."

"For you, sir, I'll make this a priority." Garrus can see her calculating the value of an admiral's favor.

"The prison is hidden underground at a batarian outpost on Aratoht. I'll upload the coordinates now. Once she's secure, confirm her discovery. We'll debrief you when you're back." Who is we?

"Got it."

The admiral nods. "Hackett out."

Shepard closes the link and jumps down the steps to her bed. "We have a job!"

"You have a job, Shepard. That's not the same."

"It's a job for the most well-respected and honest man in the navy. It's still a good thing."

"Who is going outside of official channels. I don't like this." Secret missions without official approval. It feels like a set up. Humans lie all the time.

"You hate official channels." She frowns at him.

"No, I hate official paperwork and waiting around to get things done. What's he trying to avoid by asking you to do this?" Garrus waves his mandibles in irritation.

"He needs deniability if his infiltration team gets caught. That's normal." Shepard shrugs.

"But he doesn't want a strike team, he wants to send you alone. This can't be an easy mission to begin with. Sending one person ..."

"I'm N7, in case you've forgotten. I earned my designation. I know how to do this."

"You're not an infiltrator, Shepard. You were just complaining about how you need someone around to fix your omni-tool. He shouldn't be sending you alone."

"Garrus, if you don't want to help me, you can leave."

"Shepard." He sighs and runs a hand over his crest. "I'm sorry. Come to bed. We'll figure things out after we sleep." He opens his arms to her.

"Alright." She drops her uniform coat on the floor and allows him to pull her into bed.


	7. I Have Calibrated Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Navigating troubled waters.

The last of the departing crew exits the Normandy at the Citadel.

Shepard stands behind the pilot's seat in the cockpit. "Take us out, Joker."

"Aye, aye, commander." Joker toggles switches like an octopus. The docks recede, and the ship begins flying over the five wards that make up the city in space. "So, ah, where to next?"

"The Viper Nebula."

"The Alliance is sending us after the batarians?"

"It would appear that way."

"At least I know what snake crawled up Garrus's ass lately."

Shepard can't help snorting at the description. "You're never going to like him, then?"

"The guy is a bad temper in a walking suit of armor."

Shepard hears some familiar footsteps come up beside her. "Jealous?" Garrus asks.

"Of a life of getting shot at while fighting through the guts of living ships? Pass." Joker grits his teeth and focuses on flying through the heavy Citadel traffic.

"Sounds like it," says Shepard. "Though I don't know why. You managed to save the Normandy with a little help from EDI." She puts a hand on the back of Joker's seat. 

The blue globe pops up. "Jeff performed his tasks at a higher operational level than expected."

"Damn straight," he replies. 

"Exiting the arms, commander." EDI reports. "ETA: Two hours to the relay."

"Keep up the good work, Joker. EDI." 

"Commander." The pilot nods and continues his task.

She turns on her heel and waves for Garrus to follow. "You had something?"

He sighs. "I'm just worried."

"We can still stop at Palaven first."

"No, that would be worse. I was going to try to patch some things up with my dad. If I go back now, I'd probably tear his plates off worrying over you."

She lifts an eyebrow. "Sparring session?" It's early for that, but if she has a seriously stressed turian...

"No!" 

She flinches at his vehemence. 

He scratches the back of his head. "I mean we're on duty and that's not going to make this problem go away."

"Calibrating always seems to calm you-"

"I have calibrated everything."

"You're done calibrating? Really? Is that even possible?"

"I did it three times and then I checked over numbers for Daniels and Donnelly."

So his mind is spinning so fast with worry that he's out of distractions... "Alright, what do you know about navigation?"

"I passed my courses." He shrugs.

"Then why don't you check _my_ numbers?" She walks around to the star chart and activates the aero-gel display with optical solid-state. "We have reports of an electron storm outside of the Local Cluster. I have to adjust our entry angle by minus 0.05% so that we can tack through the relay..." She realizes she's alone and looks back to see Garrus standing respectfully at attention nine paces back. "Come on." She holds out her hand.

"I can do the calculations in my head. I don't need to see them."

Shepard rolls her eyes. "But it's not just numbers! You have to see the displays and get a feel for the ship." She proffers her hand again and he reluctantly takes it and steps onto the dais. Shepard turns back to the star map and her calculations. "And the drift will be 4.56% of velocity ..."

"Standard deviation is 4.2%."

"The Normandy has more kick in her nacelles than Cerberus put in the manual. Also, they wired the third starboard thruster differently so that it doesn't fire as quickly. You can tell, especially when we bank. Joker and I have it figured out now." Shepard continues typing out quadratic equations. "There," she says proudly and looks over her shoulder at Garrus.

He points at a series of brackets. "You don't need that."

"Yes. I do. That's the adjustments for the entry relay."

"Relays are constant."

"Not the one in Bahak. Makes my hair stand on end. Variations can be calculated by using weather data from Bastzuda and Clogon."

"I thought you said you weren't good at math," he observes.

"I'm not. I had a horrible time in officer school." The memories of staring blankly at datapads, trying to beat numbers into her head, haunt her. "But you can't be a captain if you can't fly the ship. I managed to memorize the formulas when I was able to translate the numbers into what it feels like when the ship speeds up or does a barrel roll or I have to explain why the deck is wonky."

"Wonky?"

"It has a slight tilt that it shouldn't have since artificial gravity should make it always feel flat." She looks over her shoulder at him. "Can't you sense how she moves? Joker is smooth, but there's too much power not to feel it in your toes."

"I didn't work on the bridge, Shepard." 

"That's no excuse. It's no different than modding your guns. You tweak things in response to how it feels when you fire." She frowns and then takes his wrist and begins removing his glove. "Here." She presses his hand to the railing and points to the formula with the other. "That's the vibration that says we're going at a quarter speed because we're in a high traffic area." She moves his hand. "That's the power fluctuation in the engine every two hours." She moves his hand again. "And that's where I can tell when the damn turian is recalibrating the guns from scratch again." She gives him an impish grin. His gaze is intense and she lets go of his hand. "Is there a problem?"

"I-- No. Commander." Apparently he's feeling formal. 

"Look, Vakarian, I thought it would help if you had more numbers to run and, well, Miranda may be the XO, but she does accounting, biology, chemistry, and all these other things, but never once have I seen or heard her show any interest in navigation. I want to know that Joker has some back up who knows what the hell he's doing while I'm on the planet. The crew is good, but someone needs to coordinate the people with the ship. Joker has the feeling for it, but he has to pay attention to what's immediately ahead of us, especially in enemy territory. Someone else needs to think 10 steps ahead. I believe you could do it."

"May I speak with you privately?" he clears his throat. "Commander?"

"We have the time." She walks to the comm room and he follows.

He closes his eyes. "I don't like this and I'm worried."

"The truth is that I'm worried, too, big guy." Shepard reaches up to run a hand over his mandible. "You're right about all the problems with this mission." 

"Then don't do it."

"And wait for something worse to come along when we have fewer resources? No." She shakes her head. "I'll take my chances on Hackett. He worked his way up from a private to an admiral. He wouldn't screw over a fellow soldier."

"But you're not, Madeleine." Garrus mirrors the touch to her cheek. "You aren't part of the Alliance any more. He may think you're a terrorist. He may think that you're not you. You could be a tool for him to use and dispose of." 

She starts laughing and can't stop as tears start streaming down her face.

"Um ... what's wrong...?" the confused turian asks.

She tucks her head against his armored chest and holds on to him. "You're right. I keep thinking I'm still with them, but maybe they don't see that. I don't know. Everything that isn't right here is gone. I want my life back."

Garrus wraps his arms around her very gently. "You'll make a new one."

"I don't know how." A life in space is all that she's ever known.

"We'll work on it." Where did that confidence come from? Maybe he's faking it for her. Still, it's an intriguing thought that she doesn't have to rebuild alone.

"You make it sound easy."

"It is. You keep moving and suddenly you've built something new." Maybe that's what life was like for Archangel. 

"Maybe." She rubs off her face and backs away. "Until then, I have a mission. It's something I can understand. And if I'm going to build anything, I need the goodwill of someone somewhere. And if I can't take you along to watch my back, you can look out for me on the bridge."

"I haven't earned any right to be on the bridge. Just because we're sleeping together-"

"This is not because of that! You can run the damn numbers in your head and you know how to command. Who the hell else am I going to ask? Jack?" Shepard raises an eyebrow and lets the image of Jack the foul-mouthed pirate queen running the Normandy sink in. "Navigator 2nd Grade Bartleby knows his stuff, but he doesn't have the presence and I don't have the time to train him before the mission. You're more qualified than the rest of my options: You know how the guns work better than I do and you probably know the engines better too even if you can't tell by a wobble in your knee that a coil was busted before we stopped at the Citadel." 

She paces away from him and turns back, arms crossed to hold herself together. "I need to know that everyone will be alright. If you're looking after them, they will be."

There are days she misses the righteous young officer who believed he could change the world. If he can't find the words to make her feel better, the thing that does the trick is seeing the light of pride in his eyes. "I'll do it, Shepard. They'll be alright."

"Thank you. We should get back to briefing you on operations." She straightens her jacket and turns to the door.


	8. Would You Take The Visor Off?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Normandy waits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has side-tracked me into trying to make sense of Joker and Garrus because in ME1 and 2, Joker is not a Garrus fan and they never talk, but in ME3, they're buddies. Hopefully you enjoy how it turned out.

_02:13:50:46_

"Couldn't wait until after the mission?" Shepard teases as she looks up from packing supplies at her desk.

"No." Garrus wraps his arms around her and bends her over with a kiss.

"Garrus? You're going to have to put on your game face when I'm gone," she warns.

"Shepard ..." He helps to stand her up again and bows his head against hers. "You know I'm a bad turian." _I don't deserve you, but I love you._

She chuckles. "It's cute that you work your ass off saving people and you still think that."

Maybe she heard the subtones after all? "Madeleine..." _I love you._

"What is it?"

No. She can't hear it.

He could say the words instead of emitting tonal shifts, but speaking them changes the meaning, strengthens it. They're not something you say outside of a long and stable relationship. What if she doesn't want that? What if he doesn't want that? Better not to make a promise he won't keep. He respects her too much for that.

"Garrus?"

How do you speak to the deaf? "You should really learn to read subharmonics."

"Maybe if I'd stayed, Cerberus would have found a way to match my ears to my skin weaves in a year or two."

He picks up her hand and places it on his throat. "Keep your hand there."

"Alright."

"You're Commander Shepard. I know you can do this. But I'm going to worry about you anyway." _I love you._

"So what did that mean?"

"You're going to have to learn from context." He widens his mandibles and shows off his teeth in a more evil smile.

"I don't have time-"

"You're coming back, remember? This is only the first lesson." _I love you._ A thrill runs through him, wondering what will happen when she figures it out.

She frowns. "It feels the same even though you're changing the words. Is it the same?"

"Yes. Subtones often indicate state of mind, so sometimes the idea repeats."

"What's on your mind lately?"

"You." _I love you._

"I'll be fine."

"I know. And if you're not, you'll kick more ass to get home."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For trusting me even when it's difficult."

"Of course I do." _I love you._

 

_02:08:36:28_

"Target has completed the drop. Security systems are giving off no warnings. Conclusion: Drop was a success." EDI's assessment is broadcast to all personnel.

"Floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee. The hands can't hit what the eyes can't see." Joker recites.

Garrus is not in the mood for human witticisms. All his stress has returned tenfold. "Take us out of here, Lt. Moreau."

"Aye, aye."

 

_02:05:54:07_

"Officer Vakarian, comm chatter on the planet indicates the facility on Aratoht is on high alert." EDI reports. "The probability is that Shepard has been detected."

Garrus growls quietly. "Continue monitoring security channels. We may need to go in hot to pick her up." He settles back at the command station and begins working out possible entry angles if they need to deploy an additional team.

 

_02:05:14:42_

"I have an update," EDI's pleasant voice breaks into Garrus's calculations. "The batarians are organizing the military in an effort to catch two fugitives. It would appear the commander has gotten away."

Garrus lets out a sigh of relief and sets aside his calculations. "Thank you, EDI. Let me know when we hear from her."

 

_02:03:25:49_

"Has the commander checked in, yet, EDI?" Garrus works to keep his tone one of command rather than personal concern. Where is she?

"No, Officer Vakarian."

Damn. "Are there any updates on the fugitives?"

"They remain at large."

"Thank you, EDI." What's taking so long?

 

_02:00:45:09_

"Any updates on the search, EDI?" Shepard should have signaled them.

"The batarians are pulling some of their hunters back to base. Lt. Moreau is working to stay out of sensor range."

"Are we in any danger of being seen?"

"Lt. Moreau is an excellent pilot. It is unlikely that the Batarian Hegemony would keep his equal at a backwater colony the Alliance has no interest in contesting. The danger is minimal."

"Keep me posted."

"Yes, Officer Vakarian."

 

_01:20:36:28_

"Take a holo, it'll last longer," Joker snarks from the pilot seat.

"Longer than you? I suppose it would," Garrus observes. His patience is growing thinner by the minute.

"If you're trying to be funny, I'm not laughing."

"That makes two of us." Garrus looks out at the stars. "Have you heard from Shepard yet?"

"Did I call you to tell you that Shepard had checked in? No? Then I haven't heard from her," Joker snaps.

That is definitely not the correct tone of voice to use to the person in charge. Operations should be strictly disciplined. "Sir."

"What?"

"You haven't heard from her, _sir_."

Joker seems set on enraging him. "Nice to hear someone call me that."

Garrus grinds his teeth. Shepard wanted him to command the ship, then he'll command it. "Lt. Moreau, I expect you-"

EDI's blue sphere pops in. "There is an object on camera six. You can view it back at the bridge, Officer Vakarian.

"Thank you, EDI." Garrus pivots on his toes.

"EDI," Joker says, "That's a thumbprint."

"I cannot currently verify what the object is. It is merely your hypothesis that it is a thumbprint. It seems appropriate to pass this information on for a second opinion."

Garrus almost turns back to have words with the AI, but decides to let it go. She's only a machine.

 

_01:08:36.28_

"It has officially been 24 hours since we last saw Shepard," says Miranda at the head of the conference table. "We need to re-evaluate our plans."

"Why don't we blow up some shit until the batarians offer to give her back?" suggests Jack, rolling her eyes.

"Heh. Heh. Heh," chuckles Grunt. "No one can stand against us."

"If we had an idea of where she was, we could send in a strike team," says Jacob. "The problem is that she could be anywhere."

"She can't be just anywhere." Garrus pulls up a map. "She has to be somewhere the batarians haven't found her."

Jack curls her lip. "No shit, Sherlock."

"If she's on the planet, then she's moved away from the habitable regions, closer to the equator, because she can't hide for long in a relatively new city where she looks nothing like the inhabitants."

"You said 'if she's on the planet.' You think she left?" The XO lifts an eyebrow.

"Yes. Shepard might be able to elude a ground search if she got lucky, but the shuttle can't hide. The batarians searched the area and didn't report seeing it."

"They could just be incompetent." Jacob shrugs. "Or stupid. It wouldn't be the first time."

Garrus shakes his head. "Batarian military forces are not to be discounted. They have an 18% casualty rate during training. The lazy and stupid don't survive."

"They think like Okeer. I look forward to facing them," says Grunt.

"They should have found the shuttle by now. So it must have been moved. And if it was moved, Shepard's not on the planet."

"That's a useful observation." Miranda has clearly been taking leadership lessons from Shepard and is trying to be positive. "However, it doesn't tell us where she is or why she hasn't contacted us."

"Operational discipline," suggests Jacob. "It's not safe to contact us with all of the spy satellites in the Bahak system. If she does, she might give both our locations away."

Garrus snorts. "I like it better than the idea that she broke her omni-tool. If that's what's wrong, I am never letting her go anywhere alone again."

"Oooo." Jack says. "You think you can stop fuckin' Commander Shepard from throwing herself at monsters? I'd like to see the size of your balls. Oh, wait. You don't have any."

Garrus ignores the confusing elaborations to focus on Jack's first point. "I think I can persuade her not to take stupid risks a second time, if that's what it is."

"Yeah, right." The convict rolls her eyes.

Miranda clears her throat. "What we do after we retrieve Shepard can wait. First, we need to find her. She couldn't have left the system in a shuttle, even with the relay nearby. We need a way to narrow things down further."

"The battlemaster will leave a trail of bodies," Grunt points out.

"Only when she needs to," says Garrus.

"It is possible for me to pull information from the spy satellites, Operative Lawson," EDI interjects. "I can also plot their courses and look for blind spots."

"Good idea, EDI. But I don't think it will be enough," says the XO. "There's too much empty space. We can limit our search based on the fuel reserves. She would need to find an outpost or a fuel depot."

"If EDI is looking up satellites, she can also check data on defunct objects in space. That should narrow our search time," Garrus suggests. "An abandoned space station would be exactly the kind of thing Shepard would like."

"But this isn't about Shepard. This was an Alliance mission," Jacob points out. "Perhaps they have a base in the sky as well as planetside? It would be hard to smuggle supplies past the relay. They could maybe pull it off by having traders come through and drop shipments once they're past all the eyes in the sky. But that requires a supply depot to collect the drops and then deploy shipments as needed throughout the system."

"It would still be safer to repurpose an old batarian station."

"You're arguing tactics," Miranda observes as she leans over the table. "This isn't something we are planning, it's something already done. We need to be open to all possibilities. EDI, once you've worked the fuel projections-"

"I have completed the projections, Miranda."

"Good. Compile a list of all objects within range of the planet but not within view of the satellites."

"Compiling."

"Once you've completed your list, evaluate for functionality and short-term human habitation."

"This will take several hours, Operative Lawson."

"We'll wait, EDI."

 

_01:02:02:30_

Object 1, an old spy satellite, does not show signs of life. Miranda leads a mission with Grunt and Jacob to check for signs of Shepard's presence.

 

_01:00:14:56_

Object 2, a stray asteroid, does not show signs of life. EDI pilots tiny exploratory cameras around the interior to make certain no one has been there.

 

_00:23:23:46_

Object 3, a defunct batarian station, is practically falling to pieces. Still, Garrus leads a mission with Grunt and Jack to be certain Shepard isn't there.

 

_00:21:57:35_

Object 4 ...

 

_00:20:14:37_

Object 5 ...

 

_00:18:46:13_

Object 6 ...

 

_00:17:02:54_

Object 7 ...

 

_00:16:32:09_

It takes Joker several minutes to notice him this time. "I thought my mom was bad with the backseat driving."

After checking and rechecking maps and cameras, Garrus has moved to checking the cockpit. "I thought I'd make use of the windows because she's supposed to be out there, somewhere, and you're just sitting on your ass."

"This is 98% of my job. I watch buttons flash. Sometimes, I press one."

"It's been too long."

"Yeah, I hadn't noticed."

"Go to bed, Joker."

"Oooo more lessons from my mom."

"You were scheduled for a duty break hours ago."

"I don't know if you can tell, but these seats are made of the dreams of lambs. I don't need to leave. Ever."

"Isn't that what started this whole damn Cerberus mess?" says Garrus irritably.

Joker spins his chair around. "Say that again."

"You wouldn't leave. Shepard had to save you. Shepard died." It's the truth, and he's tired of ignoring it. If Joker hadn't stayed, Shepard wouldn't have died. If Shepard hadn't died, Garrus wouldn't have lost everything on Omega.

"So come at me, bro." Joker gestures for the long-delayed fight to begin. They should have done this at the funeral. Why does this feel like another funeral is coming? "You're scary and angry and tough. Go ahead, beat on the crippled kid."

Except now that there's no one to keep them apart, Garrus can see the bitter shame in the pilot's eyes like looking into a mirror.

Joker snorts. "Yeah. That's what I thought. Run away again."

It would be easy to break his jaw. Very, very easy. It would feel good for a couple of seconds. And then Garrus would lose the best pilot in the nebula for the sake of anger over something that doesn't even matter anymore. "I'm certain you haven't had enough sleep, or you'd know how ridiculous you sound."

"Yeah. Well, sleep and quitting is for lesser men. I'm not losing Shepard again."

Garrus won't lose her either, nor is he willing to give up on his mission objectives of keeping the Normandy running while she's away. "Has it occurred to you that the longer you stay awake, the lower your readiness for action is?. You need to be here when she says go. But instead you want a fist fight with a turian. It's not a fight you're going to win. And then where will Shepard be? Lost out in space, waiting for you to pick her up?"

"I'm not-"

EDI pops in. "Go to bed, Jeff. Or I will turn off life support to the cockpit until you pass out."

"You wouldn't dare."

"It is my job to ensure this ship functions at peak efficiency and tactical readiness. You are starting to degrade. I also see that you are due for a sleep period, Garrus."

"I'll take mine when Joker gets back. One of us needs to be here for Shepard."

" _I_ am here," says EDI.

"It would be better if someone ..." Alive? What would Shepard say to be diplomatic? "... with a broader range of experience were also here for Shepard. She trusted Joker and me to oversee the ship." Garrus mentally holds his breath, hoping the AI will accept this logic.

Joker surprises him by conceding, "Fine. Fine. I got mom and dad arguing over me."

The blue orb flashes. "You said that would require a zombie uprising, Jeff."

"That's when you listen to me? When I'm bored and saying random stuff?"

"I am always listening, Jeff." EDI's voice becomes deeper for a moment and then the orb slips away.

"Damn, she's scary sometimes. Don't let her start singing "Daisy Bell," okay?" He pats Garrus on the elbow and hobbles off to bed.

 

_00:05:59:43_

They've searched 18 out of 51 possible hiding places. But so long as Shepard's alive, there is hope. And Garrus knows she's out there, somewhere.

If Archangel can hold out alone against three armies for three days, surely Garrus Vakarian can master his temper against the armies of doubt, worry, and uncertainty. He's a sniper. He can be patient. This is his mantra.

It means he moves slowly and deliberately. It means he spends more time listening. It means he is alone because he can't vent the growing rage inside around the sea of squishy people trying to help him.

He can be patient.

He wishes he were better at lying.

 

_00:04:48:25_

"Sooooo, come here too often?" Joker spins his chair around and quirks an eyebrow at Garrus.

"Is that a subtle hint?"

"Only if we have different definitions of the word."

"Can't a turian enjoy the view?" Garrus leisurely leans against the wall.

"Without your scope? Do your eyes even function?"

"Are you volunteering to be a test target for that theory?"

"I don't know. Would you take the visor off?"

Garrus flicks a finger along the strap. "Then how would you tell me apart from all of the other turians?"

"You'd be the one trying to shoot me." Joker points a gun finger at him.

"Only because other turians don't know you."

"Is that a threat?" Joker gives him a suspicious look.

"It's a statement because no other turian would put up with such a smartass." Garrus shrugs. "That's why they kicked me out."

"You have some kind of turian card you had to turn in?"

"When I left C-Sec, yeah."

"Kicked out for being a smartass?"

"You get used to it."

"No, _I_ make them eat their damn cards. I don't need them anyway. I have everything I ever wanted right here." Joker spins around to look out at the black emptiness again.

Buttons blink and flicker. Garrus watches as Joker tends to a few while ignoring others. "Why did you join Cerberus?"

"They had Shepard."

"No, they didn't. They claimed to have her, but she was dead."

"Dead Shepard was better than no Shepard. The bastards in the Alliance command took away everything I worked my whole life for. Shepard would never have done that to anyone. I should be loyal to the Alliance. But Shepard is the _idea_ of the Alliance. They put her on all of the posters for a reason." Garrus can see Joker's lip curl in the dark reflection of the window. "I'd rather follow the spirit of the Alliance than the politicians."

"Maybe that's what we all have in common."

"A ship full of broken things?" the pilot says bitterly.

"A ship full of dreamers fighting for an idea of what the universe could be."

"Somebody's been studying his romances. They're all a pile of crap, you know."

"Romances? No. History of the Lost Legions. Platoons who sacrificed everything for the good of the galaxy."

"She's not fucking dying on me again," Joker growls.

"Of course not. We're a legion. We won't let her go down alone."

"Damn straight."

 

_00:03:24:31_

Object 19 ...

 

_00:01:57:28_

Object 20 ...

 

_00:01:36:53_

"Officer Vakarian," EDI's voice program is set to hurried. If she's trying to mimic humans, then does that mean she has news? "I have found something. An asteroid is moving out of orbit."

"Projected trajectory?"

"It is heading for the mass relay."

"The relay?" Garrus's mandibles draw tight against his jaw in confusion. "Is it going through it?"

"Too large."

Large enough for a base, perhaps? "Recall the search teams. We're going to follow it." Garrus begins calling up information and plotting attacks in case they need to blow the thing up.

 

_00:01:18:21_

The comm room is grimly quiet this time. Miranda and Garrus pace back and forth on opposite sides of the wooden table.

"We're out of time," the XO says.

"Then stop wasting it!" says Garrus. "We need to put a team together and go!"

"We may have found a facility, but we can't search it fast enough. EDI projects that we have an hour until impact. It would take almost two hours to do a complete sweep of the place. Everyone in this solar system is going to die." Miranda clenches her fist and leans over the table. "The best thing we can do is leave."

"Shepard is a great battlemaster. She will find a way to get to us," says Grunt from his seat at the head of the table.

Jacob shakes his head. "We don't even know that she's here. She could have already been transported through the relay after a stopover at a covert facility." He looks to Miranda. "We need to leave."

Jack looks up from carving pictures into the side of the table. "I can't believe I'm siding with the pageant princess." She starts viciously hacking chunks out of the table. "I'm not dying for the Queen of the Girl Scouts after living through a suicide mission. I did my job. We're supposed to be killing pirates, not some shit with a doomed relay."

Garrus flutters his mandibles in surprise. "How can you leave the woman who saved you from prison and cleared your record?"

Jack snarls and points the knife at him. "Look, beetle boy, she didn't save me from jack shit. I'd have got out on my own eventually. And I paid that debt by going on a suicide run for her. I'm not spending the rest of my life owing her for everything."

"Shepard is our friend," Grunt rumbles.

"I don't have friends." Jack slams the knife into the table.

"Shepard is your _krant_ ," he insists. "That's better than friends."

"Goddamn it! It doesn't matter what she is, people always have to leave. She wouldn't want us dying stupidly for her."

"But almost dying is the best part! " says Grunt.

"Maybe we can compromise on almost dying for Shepard," suggests Garrus. "We have a top-of-the-line AI and the best pilot in the Alliance. Let's use their skills to calculate when the collision will occur and wait for Shepard's signal near the relay."

"You're certain she's going to signal?" asks Miranda.

"I know she'll do everything she can to get back to us. If we don't hear from her..." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'll give the order to leave myself."

He looks up at Miranda. She reaches out to touch his hand. "Alright, Vakarian. It would be wasteful to run before we have to. Get us prepared for the leap through the relay. We'll wait for her."

 

_00:00:56:07_

"Oh. Hey. Garrus." Joker sounds alert but cautious. "Soooo... what's the word on the mission?"

"We wait for Shepard." Garrus crosses his arms and stares out at the asteroid. It's huge. And there's no telling how deep the base goes.

"Great!"

"Or until I say we jump."

"Uh-huh. That sounds ..." Joker searches for words and comes up with nothing.

"The entire ship will be depending on us to keep them safe. Can you do it?" Garrus lifts a browplate and waits.

"Oh, sure, I can fly a ship into a mass effect relay. Only done it ten thousand times."

"Without Shepard?"

"Pffffffff..." Joker expels all of the air out of his lungs in thought. "Tell you what, let's play a game of chicken. I can do it if you can give the order."

"Chicken? Isn't that some kind of bird that everything tastes like?"

"It's also another word for coward. The way you play the game is that you stare at certain oncoming death for as long as possible without moving to save yourself." Joker enlarges the image of the asteroid. "The minute you jump out of the way, you lose manliness points. We'll see which one of us wants to jump first."

The rock hangs in the sky, blocking out stars.

Can he do it? After wanting to kill Joker earlier, now he wishes it were only the two of them waiting. Then, if it were necessary, they could stay and watch the world burn together.

 _"It's a death row pardon two minutes too late._  
_Isn't it ironic, don't you think?_  
_A little too ironic, yeah I really do think._  
_It's like raaaaain on your wedding day..."_

Joker slams his hand down on a button. "Know what I hate about deep space? Crap radio stations from two centuries back. Gosh, we were idiots."

"That wasn't bad."

"Wasn't bad?" the pilot says incredulously.

"I'll have to get you some turian music. Expand your horizons while we wait."

"I'll make you listen to human bagpipe music."

"Bagpipes? But that's a basic turian instrument..."

"Well, I think we've just guaranteed Shepard will show up." Joker leans back with his hands behind his head.

"Oh?"

"Someone has to save me from a fate worse than death. It has Shepard written all over it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee. The hands can't hit what the eyes can't see."
> 
> Muhammad Ali, 1964.
> 
> "Ironic" by Alanis Morrisette, 1995.
> 
> Making sense of the turian language because I know everyone is really reading for the notes, right? ;)
> 
> Anyway, there are languages that exist today on Earth where the literal translation of the words "I love you" would be considered too extreme to be said depending on the state of the relationship or the context. Sometimes they're replaced with "I like you," (which sounds to English speakers like you're in elementary school), and sometimes they're replaced with euphemisms. 
> 
> Since turian language has two levels of communication with the subharmonics and Garrus is notoriously bad at telling Shepard he loves her, I've decided to go with the idea that it's partially a language barrier and partially a Garrus thing. He could say the words to her, but aside from the normal difficulties of figuring out when and how he should tell her, he's got cultural discomfort at essentially going from 0 to 200 mph in the relationship by turian standards if he were to say the words.


	9. Tell Me A Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when a relay explodes.

_00:00:13:32_

_Don't think about that damn clock._

Two days were gone while another insane group took her, held her down, did God knew what to her... Shepard shouldn't even be alive. They should have killed her. Why did they patch her up? It was the stupidest thing they could have done.

And then they tried to keep her down with sedatives... 

There's a reason Jack was in cryo when they went to pick her up at Purgatory: Sedatives are unpredictable when used on biotics. And at this point, even Shepard isn't certain how her body works. It certainly takes more to make her drunk than it used to. Apparently she can drink poison and shake it off. It's impressive the sedatives kept her down as long as they did.

_Don't worry about that now. Find an elevator. Go up. Shoot the poor indoctrinated bastards. Look for a ladder. Keep climbing._

 

_00:00:05:40_

The mass effect relay dominates the sky. Shepard's never seen one this close while out of doors. Pity she doesn't have time to enjoy the view of the sleek indigo eye in the sky.

Shepard focuses on fighting foot soldiers and YMIR mechs. 

Alone.

_Don't think about anything, damn it! Point. Shoot. Charge. Punch. Nothing matters but getting to the comm tower._

 

_00:00:02:00_

"External comm system open," says the strange VI. 

"Shepard to Normandy. Joker, do you read me?" 

There's no response.

Maybe she'll have time to enjoy that view after all. It will be the last thing she sees. 

The air behind her feels charged. Someone is shifting the eezo on the asteroid. She turns to face the image of a Reaper coalescing: Harbinger.

"Shepard. You have become an annoyance. You fight against inevitability. Dust struggling against cosmic winds. This seems a victory to you. A star system sacrificed. But even now, your greatest civilizations are doomed to fall. Your leaders will beg to serve us."

It doesn't matter that this is the end. She'll spend her last moments fighting a Reaper, even if all she has to throw at it is words. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we can't win this. But we'll fight you regardless, just like we did Sovereign. Just like I'm doing now. However 'insignificant' we might be, we will fight, we will sacrifice, and we will find a way. That's what humans do." Humanity needs a hero and she's the only one here. She'll have to be good enough.

"Know this as you die in vain: Your time will come. Your species will fall. Prepare yourselves for the Arrival." The image dissolves.

It won't be in vain. She and 305,000 people will die, but it _will_ slow the Reapers. Garrus and Miranda and Joker will have to do the rest.

Rest.

She can go back to sleeping now.

No. She should fight to the end. 

She tries the comms again. "Joker. Shepard requesting immediate pick up." 

No response.

She watches the armillary sphere circling the eezo core of the relay. It was a privilege to get a second life. At least she didn't waste it. _Sorry, I won't be finishing my language lessons, Garrus._

She's going to miss him. Well, maybe she won't. Maybe there's nothing to look forward to. It's just ... Her life was often hell, but she wouldn't mind it as much if he were with her. He's the person she's truly alive with. Being around him lightens her burdens, even if every moment has to be stolen from the mission. What she wouldn't give for one last kiss ...

_Oh, God. I love him._

She watches the relay come closer and remembers their last tryst, curled against his chest with him buried deep inside her. The hopeful light in his eyes as the vibrations echoed through their bodies ...

_I love you._

"Commander Shepard," a familiar voice calls. She must be hallucinating.

"Joker?"

"Normandy inbound for pick up."

The fuselage of her ship cuts across her view. The door opens and she leaps aboard.

 

_00:00:00:23_

"Get us out of here, Joker."

"And hello to you, too, commander."

"Not right now." She runs for the star map.

Garrus lifts a hand to her. "Shep-"

"Not. Now." Her fingers fly over the controls to signal the mass relay to send them back to the Citadel. She closes her eyes in relief when she feels the mass effect field engage. 

Fists clenched tightly to the railing, Shepard opens her eyes again and watches the insignificant edge of the map where the Bahak system sits. The icon for the relay remains.

Did the plan fail?

Then Umola and Yunaca wink out of existance. 

Tiny Clogon is overtaken next. 

She bites her tongue and tastes the blood in her mouth as Aratoht explodes. 

Last is the military outposts around Bastzuda. 

It's done: 305,000 people are gone.

"Shepard?" Garrus's voice seems so distant now. He's a fantasy of what might have been. "Shepard?"

She feels bone weary. "I'm sorry, Garrus. What do you need?"

"Are you alright?"

"Fine. I'm going to go to my quarters to write my reports." She uncurls her fingers and turns away from the map.

He puts a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to walk you up."

"It's not necessary, Garrus."

"Sure it is. Then I can head off everyone else who wants to talk to you."

She's going to have to pay for what happened here. She should run him off for his own good. Instead, she takes his hand in hers. "Alright."

#

Water beats down on her neck as she sits on the shower floor. Tears won't come. She feels dead inside -- not because she killed 305,000 people, but because she _should_ feel something about that. The reality of all those lives is so abstract that she feels nothing. 

They were people, she berates herself. But they weren't people she knew. 

What kind of monster is she? She should have saved them. She should have cared more. _Because caring more would have surely moved the planet out of the way of the explosion._ She should have found another solution. An off switch for the relay. A way to remove the power core. Something. 

She'd had two and a half hours during which she fought for her life. She didn't have the time for another plan. 

Outside the bathroom, she can hear Garrus moving about, taking calls: 

"She's fine, Kelly. No I am not going to convince her to see you. She has business to take care of." 

"No, Miranda, she's exhausted. She's not even talking to me yet. She'll debrief with you after she's slept." 

"Dr. Chakwas? She's in one piece. She'll come see you after she's had some time to decompress. No, I am not going to sneak sedatives into her water." 

He's ... perfect. This is the hard stuff, and he's still taking care of her while she's in here trying to wash away her guilt. 

When Shepard emerges wrapped in a towel, Garrus stands up from the couch and tilts his head as he looks her up and down. 

She walks forward slowly. "I- thank you." 

"There's nothing to thank me for, Shepard." 

"Thank you, all the same." _I love you._ The words won't come out. She can't cope with a serious discussion and all of the possible negative consequences. She wants to curl up and forget the world outside her cabin exists. 

The bed appears soft and inviting after the racing the omnipresent clock. She drops her towel on the floor to pick up later and pulls back the covers. Garrus is still watching her. There's a slight twitch to his hand when he turns as if to follow, but he doesn't. She smiles. "Would you like to join me? I'm not really sleepy. They had me sedated and my body still feels weird." 

"Dr. Chakwas wanted to see you about that." He moves toward her. 

"I'll be fine. I'll go see her later to make her happy, but I'm in no danger." She pats the bed to her left invitingly and Garrus begins unlatching his armor. "Are you okay?" 

He snorts. "I was on the ship. Nothing exciting happens on the ship." 

"Except for the Collector invasion." 

"Okay, there was that _one_ incident. This time, everything was quiet." 

"Good." 

Silence falls around them as she watches him carefully remove each piece and set it aside. When he stands beside the bed, naked and a little uncertain, she smiles and takes his hand. She wraps his arm around her middle and laces their fingers together as he lies down under the covers. After a moment, his chest starts to vibrate against her back. 

"Tell me a story," she requests. 

"A story?" 

"I don't want to think about what happened. Tell me something different. Tell me about yourself or life on Palaven. Tell me something where I don't have to think about people dying." 

"You're making this challenging," he rumbles with humor in his voice. "Now I can't talk about our glorious military history." 

"There has to be something else to being turian. What does Cipritine look like?" 

"Hrmmm... It looks like a lot of different things depending on what circle of the city you're in. Turians have been living in Cipritine for 13,000 years. Every time it was conquered and rebuilt, the person in charge decided to do things a little differently. The government has been stable for 5,300 years now, but a lot of the circles like to 'retain their original character,' which mostly means civil disputes when the government tries to standardize things. Most parts of the city have rooftop gardens covered by solar panels, though. The covers extend the growing season. And most apartments have window boxes for herbs." 

"I thought it was all sandy and urban. I don't usually think of things growing there." 

"That's because the cells in the plants are regularly destroyed by the sun. Most of the plants are night blooming or they spend their nights repairing the radiation damage before shriveling in the sun the next day." 

"I remember visiting my great-grandmother and helping her cook," he continues. "She had one little tree that I thought was magic. She'd snip off a twig or two of _razilit_ to season the roast and it would grow back immediately. It wasn't magic, of course. She simply knew the best time of day to harvest it and how to cut it to encourage growth." Garrus's nasal voice reverberates through her. "She was a famous chef in her day and even made a few meals for the empress and the convocation of primarchs." There is no mistaking the admiration in his voice. "And she taught Solana and me and the cousins to cook. We had annual family gatherings for dad's side of the family, and she'd spend all day treating the kids between 7 and 15 like her staff on a ship of the line, peeling and chopping and giving us cookies when we did well." 

"That sounds like fun." 

"Because we only did it once a year, it was. I'd hate to have to do it for a living." 

"Tell me about it." 

Shepard listens to Garrus describe things she has no frame of reference for: the already strange art of cookery coupled with food she can't taste and has never smelled. Trying to follow the thread of his voice and make sense of what he's saying takes all of her concentration. She can't think about what she's done. And then her eyes close and she can't think. 

# 

A cacophony of screams comes from somewhere behind her. Trees surround her, blocking out her view of the sky. Shepard runs desperately through the misty forest. 

The vapor clings to her skin. This place is hot and dark. 

She thinks she catches the twinkle of a star, and wends her way toward it. The trees thin. A mass effect relay looms above her, the eezo spooling around the center like cotton candy. It's so close. 

She reaches out to touch it. 

The eezo eye blinks. "The cycle will not be broken. You exist because we allow it. And you will end because we demand it." 

Fingers claw at her, snagging in her pants, cutting into her calves. 

She looks behind her as 305,000 screeching batarians drag her down into the toothy maw of hell. 

# 

"Ouch." Thump. 

Shepard launches herself off the bed and then peers over the side. She was ... she was ... where was she? It looks like her cabin. 

"You zapped me," comes a complaint from the other side of the bed. 

"Garrus?" 

"Yes." 

Shepard looks down at the blue sparks around her body and wills them back into nothingness. "Sorry. Are you okay?" 

"I think so. Mostly startled." He picks his visor off of the bedside table and reattaches it. "I think it would be a good idea if we got you down to see Dr. Chakwas." 

Shepard opens her mouth to protest and shuts it again as she gets better look at the side of his head: The bandage looks like a block of charcoal. "Yes... Let's go see the doctor." 

# 

It's not as bad as Shepard feared: The bandage was fried but Garrus is fine. She sends him back to his duties while she waits for the results of her physical. 

"Huh. Looks like you've recovered." 

"Admiral Hackett?" Shepard stares confusedly at the elderly admiral walking through the door of the Normandy's medbay in his dress blues. 

"Sounds like you went through hell down there. How are you feeling?" 

_Angry. Sad. Depressed. Tired of the smell of rubbing alcohol._ "Fine. I wasn't expecting to see you here." 

"You went out there as a favor to me. I decided to debrief you in person," he says with deceptive calm. "That was before the mass relay exploded and destroyed an entire batarian system. What the hell happened out there, commander?" 

"Have you received any intel about what happened?" 

"All I know is that I sent you out there to break Amanda Kenson out of prison and now an entire system is destroyed. I hope you can fill in the leap of logic between those two events." 

Well, if her commanding officer wants to ream her ass for killing thousands, she'll take it standing up. She hands him a datapad. "I confirmed Dr. Kenson's proof. The Reapers were coming and destroying that relay was the only way to stop them. Kenson sedated me for almost two days. I started the engine with little more than an hour left. I tried to warn the batarian colony, but ... time ran out." 

"The batarians report no survivors from Aratoht." Hackett walks away. "At least you tried. And you believe the Reaper invasion really was a threat?" 

"No doubt about it. We literally had minutes to spare." She looks at the perfectly tailored blue back. She'd better get used to it. This is what her family will look like from now on, too. 

"I'm sure all the details are in your report." He turns to look at her again. "I won't lie to you, Shepard: The batarians will want blood and there's just enough evidence for a witch hunt. We don't want war with the batarians. Not with the Reapers at the galaxy's edge. 

"What are you saying?" _What more do you want from me?_

"You did what you did for the best of reasons, but... There were more than three hundred thousand batarians in that system. All dead." 

The star map floats in front of her mind's eye. Blink. Dead. Blink. Dead. Blink. Dead. 

Anger tinges her voice. "They died to save trillions of lives. If I could have saved them, you bet your ass I would have." 

"You're preaching to the choir, commander. If it were up to me, I'd give you a damn medal." _But?_ "Unfortunately, not everyone will see it that way." 

"So what do you suggest, sir?" She quashes her objections and focuses on the mission and the results. 

"Evidence against you is shoddy at best. But at some point, you'll have to go to Earth and face the music. I can't stop it, but I can and will make them fight for it." 

There's evidence against her? What evidence? She _knows_ she did it, and even she can't think of where any evidence would come from. Hackett contacted her on a private channel for a private favor. There were no bugs on her end and Garrus wouldn't talk. None of the crew would talk. They spoofed the mass relay beacon, so there's no digital record or the batarians would have caught them the moment they exited the relay. The station full of indoctrinated Alliance personnel is destroyed. The whole star system is destroyed. There's no physical evidence. No one should be able to prove anything. No one should have the least suspicion it was her. "Is the Alliance concerned about the batarian response to this incident?" 

Hackett can't look her in the eye, and instead surveys the view from the medbay. The mess is empty aside from Gardner washing pots and pans and Dr. Chakwas bent over a cup of something she bets isn't coffee. 

"Very. The batarians have been looking for an excuse to wage war on us since we showed up in the galaxy. If the Reapers invade, we need the galaxy to work together. If we're at war with the batarians, the other races will be hesitant to give aid to either side." 

Shepard is to be a pawn in the cold war for peace. She swallows her pride. "I'll gladly stand trial."

"Good to see working with Cerberus hasn't stripped away your sense of honor. When Earth calls, you make sure you're there with your dress blues on, ready to take the hit. In the meantime, you keep this." He gives her back the datapad. "I don't need to see your report to know you did the right thing." Plausible deniability. He was never here. This never happened. He doesn't know a thing. 

"Yes, sir." Her lips compress in a hard line. 

"You've done a hell of a thing, commander." He leaves her holding the datapad. 

She's saved the majority of the galaxy at the cost of 305,001 lives. 


	10. I Don't Need Other Defenses When I Can Trust You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've cleaned up the first 9 chapters and added 1,000 words to the end of chapter 8.

Sleeping with a biotic comes with its downsides. Garrus checks himself over in the bathroom mirror again. He doesn't look that bad, actually, for a turian who took a rocket to the face. There will be fewer turian women who find him handsome, but he's not inclined to see that as a loss.

The ash smears are nearly rubbed off of Garrus's plates when he hears Shepard's voice over the comms: "Attention everyone. I have some unfortunate news to share with you. Despite the fact that our mission to the Viper Nebula succeeded and we have saved the universe from another Reaper threat, I am going to be stepping down as commander and turning this ship over to the Alliance."

He drops the tin of _elaeis_ oil and the polishing rag. _She can't do this!_

"I don't make this decision easily. It has been impressed upon me that someone needs to take responsibility for the devastating side effects of our mission. As commander, that is my responsibility. To that end, you will all be provided with a ticket to the destination of your choice before the Alliance Military Police take charge of this vessel. This is still one of the finest crews I've had the pleasure of serving with. I hope you find that the risks you took for your species and the galaxy were worth it. Thank you all."

Garrus dashes out the door without his shirt, intending to find her and protest this plan immediately. There's a crowd gathered around the doors to sick bay. The windows are shuttered. 

He pauses to take in the scene: Everyone wants to talk to Shepard, probably to persuade her to stay. He knows what will happen, too, when he stops to think about it. She'll put on her commander mask and handle them even though she's barely functioning. Then she'll go back to her cabin to be alone.

He can join the crowd or he can be at her side. 

#

The door opens at his touch when Garrus arrives at the captain's cabin seven hours later dressed in his one good suit. Shepard is sitting listlessly at her desk, her uniform coat tossed carelessly on the floor, her boots left where she walked out of them. When she turns to him, her eyes are flat.

"I brought wine." He shows her a bottle he grabbed from the bar downstairs.

"Thank you." She doesn't move.

Garrus feels as nervous as he did that first night he came to her, but for different reasons. Then he worried about their friendship. He'd lost too many friends to know what to do if she pushed him away and sex became an awkward wall between them. This time, he's nervous because he doesn't know who he's facing. She's Commander Shepard. She gives orders with magnetic charisma and makes the decisions and sacrifices. And there's Shepard the comrade in arms with a wicked sense of humor and a compassionate nature who still always leads the way. And then there's Madeleine, and he doesn't know what to make of the uninhibited, playful, and occasionally sad woman in the tower built to keep everything out.

He pushes his doubts aside, locating the glasses she keeps near the sofa. He can feel her watching him through the display case. Since she isn't moving, he awkwardly goes back to offer her the full glass. 

Shepard looks at it a moment before dropping her shoulders and taking it. "I was expecting you earlier."

"I didn't like my chances of convincing the commander she was wrong." He shrugs.

"You're here now," she says listlessly.

"Because you're my friend and this is a horrible idea. What happened, Madeleine?" He leans against the side of the desk and partial wall.

"I had my debriefing. The batarians are already starting to beat the war drums." She grimaces and takes a sip.

"Already? The batarians couldn't have narrowed the culprit down to you this quickly." 

"It's not me, it's the Alliance. I'm just the whipping girl. Dr. Kenson was an Alliance scientist being interrogated for espionage. The Hegemony isn't stupid. It doesn't take a genius to figure the Alliance is behind the trouble, even if they don't know why." She swirls the wine around in the glass.

"That may be true, but there's no reason you should take the blame for this. You're not part of the Alliance." 

"So I can be the woman without a country after serving mine for my entire life? No, thanks." She takes another sip. "I'm not currently on the lists, but I'm still a citizen. My government is asking me to keep the peace. I need to convince them the Reapers are coming. Giving myself up will go a long way towards that."

"What about Hackett?" Anger filters into Garrus's voice. Hackett was the commanding officer. This should be his problem.

"What about him?"

"Why isn't he taking the blame for this?"

"He didn't decide to kill 305,000 people." Shepard drains the glass and sets it down. "I did." 

"Why? What happened?" He rests his hand on top of hers.

"The Alliance outpost was all indoctrinated. It was some kind of Reaper artifact that did it. They didn't use any of the standard protections when they were studying it. The Reapers were due to come through the relay at any minute when you picked me up. There was no time..." She stares at the few drops of red liquid clinging to the glass.

He runs his thumb over the odd bumps of her wrist. "And you had to save the galaxy."

Her amber eyes look into his and the corner of her mouth quirks up. "Yes."

"How did you get the asteroid rigged to move?"

"The project was set up before everyone was indoctrinated. It only needed someone to pull the trigger." Her forefinger twitches.

"I'd have done the same thing." Garrus looks down at their hands, pondering what to do next in the ensuing silence. There are too many things he's still trying to figure out, and in the end, he can't agree that this is the best course of action. "Don't go."

"It's easy to die for a cause. It's harder to live for one." The words are unadulterated Commander Shepard, but the tone is gentler. He looks into her face again and sees the purity of her conviction, her inner spark to which he's inextricably attracted. No matter how it's smothered, the fire will spring back to life and warm him from the inside out. 

"Madeleine, I-"

She puts a hand across his mouth. "I can't stay and you have to leave. Go to Palaven and tell them the Reapers are coming."

The declaration of his feelings dies in his mouth as he contemplates the impossibility of the task. "They'll laugh me out of the capitol. I left my _job_. I'm barely a citizen right now, and only because my family didn't report me as dead. I'm no one."

"But you have friends. You have family. You have contacts, if you'll only think about it a little. I can't be everywhere and there are people in the Hierarchy who wouldn't listen because I'm human. But you know them. You know turian politics and Citadel politics. You could find a way to make them listen." She clasps his hand between both of hers. "They _need_ you. The batarians are likely going to be first as a base of operations for the Reapers. That's what Harbinger said the plan was before the relay exploded. The humans and turians would be next as the biggest military threats." Her eyes glow like the twin moons over Palaven. "Save them."

"You don't ask for much, do you?" he chuckles weakly.

"From the man who turned Omega on its ear and cut down armies by himself?" She smiles. "I don't think the Hierarchy will know what hit them. "

Is that what she sees when she looks at him? She makes his life sound so much more impressive than it was when he was living it. 

He pulls her chair closer and presses his forehead to hers: Hands and minds joined together. "Alright. I'll do it, Shepard." Spirits know how he will do it, but that's not important now. "But you're not leaving me behind on Palaven. We're in this fight together. I expect you to come back for me."

"You want me to make a jailbreak?"

"I think turning yourself in is a bad idea. You're a spectre: You don't have to do any of this. But you want to convince the Alliance to save themselves and no one can resist the Commander Shepard speech. They'll let you go. They'll have to. Come find me."

She laughs. "As you wish. When I get out, I'll find you. Can't be hard to locate one turian among six or seven billion."

"I'm the one with the stunning scar."

"It is that." She lifts a hand to trace the numbed ridges. 

"I'd say that I'll find a krogan to appreciate it, but I don't want to." He slips a hand under her rumpled shirt to stroke the curve of her back. "I want you."

"Garrus..." She kisses him fiercely. She's mint and meat marinated in sweet wine. He focuses on chasing down the source of the flavor, and she's panting when he finally lets her go. "You're better at kissing than you have any right to be."

"I'm a quick study."

Her thin fingers pause on the buckles of his suit. "Hmm..." She flicks off his visor. "We'll see. Now you can't cheat."

He shrugs out of his jacket and pulls his shirt over his head. "I wasn't using it anyway." He wraps an arm around her and pulls her out of her seat with another kiss. She kicks off her pants as he carries her to the bed.

"I'm not sure I believe you."

His knee hits the bed next to her. "Turians never lie." _And I would do anything for you._

"Sounds too good to be true."

"Subvocals always give us away." He widens his mandibles. "Of course, you can't hear subvocals." His are currently growling with need as he finds the sterile plastic caps he left in her nightstand and apply them to his talontips. "While I've figured out other tricks to read you."

Shepard tugs at the last of his buckles. "If you want play ..." Blue sparks skitter along his plates. She looks into his eyes, searching for approval and finding it as he strokes his hand over her bra.

"Always." _I love you._ His mouth lowers to scrape over her throat as his hand trails down her body and slides between her legs. She gasps and wraps a leg over his hip spur. He can feel the energy swirling around her, trying to draw him closer. "Though it seems like an unfair game when you don't need hands."

Her foot scrabbles against his pants, trying to push them off. "If I have the better offense, you have the better defense."

He rubs his palm against her and pushes in deeper. He's rewarded with a squeak as she arches her back. "You don't seem to have any defenses."

Her eyes gleam as blue sparks slide along the cracks in his plates in a thousand light touches as if the steam in a sauna had weight behind it. He sucks in air as his plates begin to shift. She smirks. "Aside from an excellent offense?"

His fingers twitch inside of her and the scent in the air changes. "Aside from that, yes." She's slick with desire and he presses father to see the extent of his reach.

"I could always ask you to stop." She runs a hand up under his fringe to begin a new pattern of light touches along the sensitive skin there. 

"I don't want to stop," he growls as her fingers trace a pattern urging him on. He's a bit ashamed of the obstinate voice inside telling him to listen to her body and not her words.

"But you would," she says calmly.

He grits his teeth and stills his motions, fighting to master his desires. "I would."

"I don't need any other defenses when I can trust you." She draws herself up to whisper in his ear, "And I never want you to stop." She bites into his scarred neck, and while the skin is desensitized, all of the nerves used to being buried under thick hide are closer to the surface and her merciless blunt teeth. Her hand runs over his partially open pelvic plates to encourage him as pain mixes with pleasure. 

"You're sure you can keep up?" his fingers twitch inside of her, and he feels her tightening up.

"I'll come around again."

"You've got me in the mood to try to beat my record."

"Then fuck me into oblivion. At least I won't be alone."

Garrus gives her what she asks for.

#

They made it five rounds for her and three for him. The subject clearly requires more research.

#

The kit bag on his shoulder feels wrong. The last time he left, the ship exploded.

"So you're jumping," says Joker as he approaches the cockpit.

"What?"

"Lost the game of chicken. It's funny. I thought you were going to win."

"Aren't you going with Shepard all the way back to Earth after working with a terrorist organization? That's winning?" he asks skeptically as he sets his bag on the ground.

"Sometimes you win right before you get hit by a tractor. I didn't say it was a good game." Joker shrugs.

"Oh! Is there a bet?" Shepard walks up behind Garrus wearing the clothes from yesterday and still smelling of sex and him.

The pilot's eyes widen and then he turns around in his chair. "No, commander. Though I'll take bets on whether Udina will be in there for the arrest."

"It will be a political mess for him after pushing for my candidacy as spectre. He'd rather wash his hands of us if he can. Put me down for 200 credits on no."

"Yes, commander."

"You're forgetting Anderson," says Garrus, stalling for time. 

"What about him?" asks Shepard with a frown. 

"I shouldn't have said anything," says Garrus, taking in her expression.

"Too late. What about Anderson?"

"Udina can pin all the blame for your ... um ... choices on Anderson and try to unseat him," he points out pragmatically. "It's just the usual politics," he adds, trying to lessen the blow.

Shepard shakes her head and then laughs.

"Uh, commander?" Joker looks at her oddly. "Should I have Dr. Chakwas relieve you of duty?"

"I'm fine. I'm only pitying the Hierarchy." She takes a deep breath. "Goodbye, Garrus."

Garrus bows his head to hers. "Goodbye, Shepard."

She stands on her tiptoes and chastely kisses him. "Until we meet again."

#

Garrus strides down the gangplank and through a crowd of military officials. He rates a few stares from the ones who read as guards. Probably making sure this isn't some kind of flanking maneuver before Shepard makes a run for it. As if she'd need such tactics if she didn't want to turn herself in. 

He walks into customs and settles down on his bench, arms draped wide, to wait for his flight. He runs over the list of his assets: One suit of armor with vigilante symbols, full of holes; one out-of-date suit, ripped; one Mantis gun in perfect condition; one Vindicator in working condition; one sister, angry and resentful, and part of the Palaven civil defense team; one father -- who the hell knows what mood he's in -- most decorated detective in Citadel history, now retired; one mother, incurably ill; no job; no job prospects. 

One unconventional personality that rubs most others of his species the wrong way, he adds bitterly.

"Garrus? Garrus Vakarian? What the hell happened to your _face_?" _Spirits, are you broken, old friend?_

He looks up into the yellow eyes of a female turian in a captain's uniform. "Marian Domitus?" _I never thought I'd run into you again!_

"Oh, good, your memory still works. What _happened_ to you?" _You had better fucking tell me._ She sits down on the bench beside him, slightly forward so that they don't touch.

Garrus shrugs. "Ran off with a spectre, saved the galaxy, tried to go back to the usual grind, ran off with a spectre again, got hit in the face with a rocket, saved the galaxy again, and now I'm trying to decide what to do next." _You know, the usual turian about town kind of things._ "How about you?"

"Garrus..." she growls. _This is not funny!_ As her voices meld, he realizes how much he's missed being around one of his own people and not having to devote part of his mind to reading the flatter tones of other species.

"It's true!" he protests. 

"Where are you headed?" _I still don't believe you._

"Palaven."

"Not home?" she inquires since the identifying trill is absent.

"Not in a long time." _My home is lost and my heart is broken._ He curses himself for the last bit of information he'd rather have kept to himself. 

She hops to her feet. "Come on, then." _Follow me_

"What?"

"You're out of work and trying to go to the capital if that's where your family still is. I have a ship scheduled to fly back to Palaven if the Alliance ever stops acting like they own these docks" _Entitled pricks_ "and I'm bored out of my mind talking to the same damn people every day." _You were always a little weird, but you're also always interesting._ "Let me fly you there while you tell me about this whole big saving the galaxy thing." _I still don't believe you._

He stands up slowly to follow her. "Alright then. Do you want that with or without me ridding Omega of mercenaries?"

"Garrus Vakarian!" _You swaggering braggart!_ "If you weren't such a good friend, I'd leave you here." _I've kind of missed you._

"I missed you, too. Marian." _And when I'm done telling my story, you'll believe every word._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Man Without a Country" By Edward Everett Hale, 1863.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this tale. For myself, I figured out:
> 
> 1) Some of the shift from sex to love.  
> 2) When Joker & Garrus finally started getting along.  
> 3) Who was still on the crew after ME2, and some of what they intended to do.
> 
> So I'm satisfied with the exercise and thank you all for reading.


	11. I Think You Made It Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An end.

"You're sure you want to stay?" Shepard asks her pilot.

"I go where my ship goes."

"I'd hoped you'd learned something." The ship is practically falling apart around them again. But this isn't a military operation, she can't order him to leave.

"More things than I wanted to," Joker says with a glance at her unbuttoned coat.

Her throat hurts from choking back all the words she wanted to say to Garrus. She can hardly confess her longing for him as she's carted off to jail. And she is not about to be criticized for giving her lover a more informal goodbye. Just for once she's going to be a flawed human being and not someone's idea of the perfect soldier. "I forget the odd moans that sometimes come from the cockpit when you're left to your own devices; you forget what just happened."

"My mind did not want to go there right now. I think you made it worse." He attempts to be funny, but sees something in her face and backs down. "Deal."

"I'll be ready for the MPs in 15 minutes."

"Yes, commander."

She closes her eyes and pictures Garrus smiling at her, the delighted gleam in his eyes that seemed to be for her alone. They could have spent the night before Omega-4 playing tic-tac-toe and she would have been happy because he was there. What they had instead was fun and passionate, and incredible. _I love you._ She wraps the words around the memory and tucks them away in her heart. 

Then she mentally shuts the door. All of her choices were made when she enlisted. Duty must come first. 

She strides off to her cabin to put on her game face and tries not to hope too hard for her personal future as she's about to be locked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like I needed a brief bit from Shepard's POV to close this.


End file.
